In the Family Business

"You're making your mom feel so good, honey. Keep it up."

"I thought it was 'Mrs. Fletcher' while we're in the office?"

"I think we're close enough to the end of the work day that we can suspend the formalities for now, sweetheart."

"You're the boss, mom."

"That's right, mom's the boss," she purred, watching him vaguely through heavily lidded eyes as she stretched, laying her idle foot on his thigh. In his shirt and tie, he looked like some kind of high-class gigolo she'd hired as a masseur. "I guess that means I get to order you around when we're home, too, don't I?"

"Yes, I guess so," there was a new husky note in his voice that attracted her attention. Opening her eyes a little more, she saw that his were locked on her legs, crawling up the length of them, and back down again as he worked, a faraway look on his face. Suddenly curious, Maggie let her idle foot slip up his thigh, quarter inch by quarter inch, until it encountered something thick and steely in his tight pants.

"You don't mind that I'm in charge, do you?" She scrunched up her toes, just barely brushing the tips against that lump, and was rewarded with a tremor that ran through his body.

"No," he said, not apparently caring that he'd been circling the same big toe now for five minutes.

"It makes sense, right? I'm the boss, here and at home."

"Yeah, yeah sure." Ben said in a faraway voice. She scrunched her toes again, rewarding a correct answer and feeling that tremor run through him.

"In fact, you probably like it, don't you? Switch, please." His hands moved automatically to take her other foot and she let the first fall as close as possible to his cock.

"What, huh?" He seemed to rise up out of his reverie a bit.

"I mean, it's just easier, isn't it? More relaxing? To let me make the decisions, to think for the both of us?" Her toes flexed again, and he shivered.

"Mom, I don't understand what you're talking about?"

"Benjamin John Fletcher," her own voice dropped to a husky, pregnant tone, and she leaned forward. His eyes rose to meet hers, but not before taking a long rest stop in her cleavage. "It's okay to admit it, honey. It's just the two of us here. Nobody else needs to know." She planted one finger on his chin, drawing it down his throat, hooking it in his tie and loosening the knot. "You like that I'm in charge; teaching you to be a better lawyer, a better m- a better boy for me. Don't you?"

"Yes," he hissed, looking away. "Yes. I like it. I've learned...a lot, here."

"Good boy," Maggie relaxed back into the embrace of the couch, stretching her legs out again into his lap. "That wasn't hard, was it?"

"No," Benjamin agreed in a quiet voice.

"Do you see something you like, honey?" She toed the tip of his tie with her right foot, then crossed her legs again, feeling the hem sliding between her thighs.

"What?" His eyes snapped up and locked with his mother's.

"You're staring, Benjamin. I assumed you saw something you liked. I'd hate to think you were off in la la land and not paying attention."

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, that dress looks really...good on you, mom."

"Flatterer," she chuckled. "It won't get you out of finishing the job on my poor feet." She toed his tie again.

"Sorry! Yes, right. Sorry, I don't know where my head is." Benjamin set to his work with renewed vigor, working his fingers hard into the muscles of her foot.

"Ohhhh, yessss...if your standard of work stays this high, honey, you'll get that end of summer treatment that I promised."

"Really?" He asked, face brightening.

"Mmhmm, definitely. You are well on your way to earning that privilege, but only," her foot pressed hard against his chest, "if you do this again when we get home. After you clear away dinner, and start my laundry, maybe. I'm not sure if I trust you that far, yet."

"You can trust me, mom." Ben laughed.

"Of course I can," Maggie's voice was almost as warm as the moist heat between her thighs. "You're my good boy."

*

It was well past midnight when the front door of the Fletcher residence flew open, admitting a more-than-tipsy mother and son.

"That," Ben said as he stumbled in through the foyer. "That was a lot fancier than I expected."

"Oh?" Maggie asked breathlessly, leaning against the front door, pushing the deadbolt over. "What did you expect? TGIFriday's?"

"I did not expect La Poêle on a Friday night, that's for sure. Or so much of that, that- what was that wine?" Ben's jacket slid out of the crook of his arm and flumped to the floor, unheeded.

"It was," Maggie's lips pursed in thought, as she shook her hair out. "It was French."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, French. Both bottles were definitely French. C'mon, you don't take all your clerks there. I saw that picture of that guy that time, that was definitely a bar."

"Nothing but the best," she said, taking his face in her hands, and kissing him sweetly on the cheek. "For my best clerk." Maggie danced away again, heading for the living room, heels making sharp reports against the hardwood. The diaphanous wrap she'd worn around her shoulders fluttered to the floor. "Be a dear and pick that up, won't you, Benjamin?"

"Yes'm." He followed close behind, scooping the discarded fabric from the floor with a slight wobble in his step but never losing sight of his mother's long bare legs, the backs of her thighs flashing through the slit up the back of her tight, black, knee-length dress, chunky zipper glimmering in the low light, all the way from the top of the slit up to the middle of her back, which was otherwise more or less bare like her arms, except for a couple of minimal spaghetti straps arcing over her creamy shoulders.

By the time he got to the living room, his mother was sitting on the sectional couch, arms stretched out across the back of it, her high-heeled sandals dangling from her fingers by their minimal ankles traps. Her breasts were twin shadows beneath a mesh panel across her chest, heaving slightly as she watched him approach. A simple silver chain glimmered around her neck.

"These as well, please," she proffered the shoes, and Ben hooked his own fingers in the straps, and took them from her.

"Good boy," Maggie crooned as he obeyed.

"So is that all there is to it?" Ben said when he returned, loosening his tie.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he sat down on the coffee table in front of her. "The way you talked it up, I thought there was going to be a bash in my honor with the whole office or something. Dad didn't even show up."

"Your father," Maggie laughed in a short sharp bark, "your father couldn't be bothered to meet any of the last half dozen clerks, never mind go to party for them. I didn't expect him to break with tradition just because you're his son. No, he's asleep here somewhere, either downstairs in front of a TV or upstairs in front of a different TV."

"If you're so unhappy with him, why are you still with him? Surely you of all people would know better than to stay married-"

"That would be a great joke, wouldn't it?" Maggie laughed again. "The great divorce lawyer, getting the short end of the stick in a divorce. The practice is his, it's his name over the door. I built it, I expanded it, but if I leave him, then I lose it. Even if my clients follow me, I lose the name, the brand I've been building for years. Bill's not evil, just stupid and neglectful and lazy and soft. He wasn't always that way, but there's no going back. No, he does his own thing now, and I do mine, and that's alright. For instance," she slid a bare foot against his knee, "the clerks are all mine, to do with as I please, which is why our little send off parties are usually private affairs."

"What do you mean?" Her foot was sliding higher and higher now; her skin looked so smooth, so touchably silky, and he knew it was from these last few weeks as her personal in-home massage therapist. "I've seen the pictures."

"Oh those? Those are just selfies for Glenys'...personal use. I'm not sure what she does with them, but I hope she enjoys them. There must be quite a collection by now." His mom made a big show of yawning, arching her back like a cat, pressing her breasts up against the transparent mesh covering them, upper slopes threatening to pour out of the top of the bodice. "She'll just have to make do with what she's got from now on; there certainly won't be any more. I'm done with taking on students. Once you're on board full-time I won't have any use for one."

"What if I say no?" Ben teased. Both of his mother's feet landed in his lap.

"You won't say no," she said. "Not once you get a taste of the perks and benefits. Besides," a lazy, predatory smile crept over her face. "I don't think you can say no. Not to me, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that Emma Carmichael née Jones is a horny old bitch, but she had you pegged: you're a sucker for women like us. You crave to be a good, obedient boy for the approval of an attractive, confident, mature woman. She just didn't realize that woman was your mother."

"Hey, w-wait a minute."

"You'll get a chance to cross, counsellor. Right now, the witness is mine." She flashed her teeth at him, snarling or smiling, he couldn't tell which.

"Mister Fletcher, are you a good boy for your mother?"

"What? I don't-"

"I'll make it easy for you: on a number of occasions, hasn't your mother called you her good boy. In fact, a very good boy?"

"Yes, she has."

"Do you think that's because you made her happy? Made her feel good by doing as she told you? Helping around the office, the house? Rubbing out all those aches in her neck, her back, her feet?"

"Yes?" Ben's head was swimming, from the wine and the interrogation. "Yes."

"Do you like making me feel good, honey?" Her voice softened.

He licked his lips, then, quietly: "yes."

"So you like being my good boy? Pleasing me gives you pleasure," Ben watched as his mother's soft pink lips dragged out that last word, tongue flickering. When he didn't answer straight away, she said: "exhibit A: you've been rubbing my tired little feet for the last five minutes without even being asked. No, don't stop." His hands unfroze, went back to work at her bidding.

"See? You're such a good boy you're starting to anticipate my needs without even being asked." Maggie purred as she relaxed under his touch, a flush rising in her chest.

"Now that we've established that you like to be obedient," she said, pressing her free foot into his knee, and Ben's gaze slid, of its own accord, up along her bare thighs, and momentarily flickered over the darkness past the hem of her skirt. "You think I'm attractive, don't you?"

"Mom," he began; her foot pressed harder.

"Please do bear in mind that you're under oath, Mister Fletcher." Maggie toyed with her silver chain. "Let's try again: do you think I'm more attractive than, say, Emma Carmichael?"

"Oh wow, yes," Ben said without hesitation. "No comparison."

"And you think Emma Carmichael is sexy? So sexy that you risked your job to almost get a handy in a fucking public restroom?" Her heel dug painfully into his thigh, just above the knee.

"I-"

"Please bear in mind I've got corroborating eyewitness testimony, Mister Fletcher."

"Yes, alright? Yes, I wanted to fuck her."

Maggie purred again. "You should know better than to volunteer information on the stand like that, honey. Looks like I still have a few things to teach you."

"So, logically," she pulled her feet back, sitting up on the couch, leaning forward. "Logically speaking, you must think that I'm sexier than she is. Logically speaking, maybe you want to fuck me more than you wanted to fuck her."

Ben opened his mouth; his mother laid a finger across his lips.

"Before you respond, I'd like to submit Exhibit 'B' to the court." She slid from the couch to the floor, kneeling between his legs, fingers hot and fast in his lap, making quick work of his belt and fly; suddenly they were searching inside, wriggling around until they found what they were looking for.

"Aha!" Maggie said. "Here we are," with an agonizing deliberateness, she pulled her son's cock free from his shorts until it stood straight and tall in his lap, a big meaty spire of dick that visibly pulsed even in the low light of the living room.

"You may answer the question now," she said, dragging the tip of one sharp nail down along the fat vein running along the underside of his member.

"Mister Fletcher?" Her finger slid over his smooth, shaven sac. "Do you think." His leg quivered as she tickled his balls. "That I am sexy?"

"Yes," he said in a husky voice.

"Good boy," Maggie's fingers trailed upwards, peeled back his foreskin and started describing little circles around the head. "Do you want to fuck me?"

"Oh god yes," he breathed.

"Then I rest my case," she said, leaning in so close to his cock that her lips brushed against the skin as she spoke. "Unless you want to rebut?" Maggie began kissing the underside of his shaft, leaving sticky trail of lipstick behind.

"N-no," he gasped, knuckles white as he held onto the edge of the table.

"No, what?" Her lips folded over the very tip, smacking loudly.

"No Mrs. Fletcher, ah!"

"Oh sweetheart," Maggie's tongue flickered against the sensitive bundle of nerves just under his weeping piss slit. "I think you should call me mom while we're home."

"Yes mom!" He enthused as she slurped noisily. "Oh fuck yes mom!"

There was a loud pop as she pulled away. "Good boy. Case closed, I think." Maggie gave his cock one last, long lick from top to bottom, and stood up, turning around.

"Unzip me," she said. Fingers trembling with need, the saliva she'd left on his cock cooling in the air, he reached up and slowly ran that big silver zipper downwards, revealing yards of smooth, creamy skin until he reached the base of her spine. His mother shrugged and the dress collapsed in a puddle around her feet; Ben found himself face-to-cheek with the powerful curves of her ass, barely hidden beneath a pair of silken briefs, black lace scalloping around the legs arced across those dramatic curves while the ivory-shaded silk dipped briefly between buttocks that a man could get lost in. Maggie turned again, and sank her fingers in his hair, pulling him close to the mound just hiding beneath the gusset of her panties; so close he could smell her.

Ben's mouth started to water.

Fingers still entwined in his hair, Maggie stepped back, sitting on the couch, drawing him forward, down, onto the floor, onto his knees, between her outstretched thighs.

"It's time to be a very good boy for mommy," she said, reaching down to pull her panties to one side, revealing the smooth, plump lips of her mons, framing delicate scarlet folds that glistened with wetness dripping onto the upholstery. The hand on his head applied just a little pressure, and Ben dove in, mouth snaking forward to engulf her slippery labia, tongue sweeping between them and diving for the source of all that musky sweetness. A new and insatiable hunger awakened in him, he drove his tongue deep and deep and deep again, desperately searching for the source of her juiciness. When he couldn't he swept it back out again, hungrily drinking from his mother, tongue circling and beating a rapid tattoo against her clit, his reward a renewed gush of that addictive sweetness from her vagina and the increasingly desperate moans coming from somewhere far away, far above.

Everything went dark as her thighs tightened around his head and her hands pulled hard on his hair; her hips grinding against his face as he slurped and sucked and worshipped her divine pussy. Ben's whole world was reduced to the feel of her silky folds against his tongue, the flavor of her sex filling his mouth, the grinding pressure against his face. And he loved it; his cock flagged not an inch as he gave himself over to her, wanting only to get the treat flowing freely from her for a very good boy.

"No," Maggie said, suddenly yanking him free from her. Ben stared up at his mother, dazed and dripping from his chin. "I want to cum on your cock first, you fat-dicked stud. You can eat me anytime, but I need that fucking cock." She kicked the coffee table away and shoved him, pushing her son down onto his back.

Maggie straddled his prostrate body, rubbing the tip of his cock between her labia, teasing it with her slick heat.

"Do you want to fuck me, honey?" She asked, leering down at him.

"Yes I told you yes!" He grunted, arching his hips up, trying to find purchase in her pussy.

"Oh no," Maggie chuckled. "When we fuck we fuck on my terms, do you understand? When we fuck I'm the one who does the fucking. I'm the one who's in charge. I'm the boss, get it?"

"Mom mom yes mom," Ben whined in desperation. "You're the boss."

"Now and for always."

"Whatever you say, mom, now and for always!"

"Good boy," she snarled, and wedged the head of his dick in her pussy, slippery slick with a mix of her juices and his saliva. "Now you'll see something I bet those little bitches at college never did." Maggie shifted her weight and began to sink down, slowly feeding inch after inch of her son's member to her vagina. Ben gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head as those clasping molten walls closed around him, working his cock as she came closer and closer to taking the whole thing inside of her, whence it had originally come.

"Look at me." Their hips touched. His mother sat perched atop him, like a rider natural in her saddle, one hand resting between their bodies grinding against her clit. "Get used to this view," she said. "You'll be seeing a lot of it."

With that, Maggie lifted her hips a few inches, and dropped them down again with a satisfied grunt.

She'd never been so full in her life. She'd never felt so alive, so complete. She leaned forward a little, changing her leverage and began working her hips in a slow, sweet rhythm that pulled a moan from her son's mouth, his eyes crawling over her naked form; one of his hands reached up and palmed her breast as she fucked herself onto him, thumbing and toying with her nipple. Ben's other hand slid up over her left hip, just riding there as she pumped, as she relished the sensations of her son's cock plunging in and out.

The room soon filled with the slap of flesh against flesh. Ben's hand slid further up her back, and Maggie leaned into him, their bodies almost parallel now, her hips pumping and circling and working the colossal slab of dick filling her up. He bent his neck and slurped her free nipple into his mouth, lips working and pinching, teeth gently grinding against it, tongue flapping and teasing it.

"Ffuck! Fuck yes!" She grunted, fingers flicking her clit. "We're going to do this every fucking day. I'm going to need this cock in me every goddamn day; no more fucking clerks, no more end of summer dicking, just one, big, young, yummy, full-time fucking cock! Do you understand?" Ben, his mouth full of her tit, nodded and mumbled his agreement.

"Oooh goddd," Maggie's voice rose to a feverish whine. "Every! Fucking! Day! Twice if I want it, whenever. I. Fucking. Want it!" She was pumping hard on his dick now in short sharp strokes, her hips almost a blur as they beat out a loud, rapid tattoo.

"Ben Ben Ben honey you're sooo fucking big, you're such a good boy for mommy," her nostrils flared, breath coming in short sharp huffs as she neared the edge of her orgasm. "I want you to cum for me, honey, I want you to fill me the fuck up with your hot young cream, can you do that for me Benjamin? Can you fucking cum for your mom? For your boss? Cum cum cum cum for me you sonofabitch!" Maggie's voice rose to a shriek as she tumbled over the edge, body wracked with ecstasy as she came on her son's cock. Ben, feeling her writhing and squirming and grinding reach its crescendo, followed her off the cliff, grunting like a rutting animal as he felt the sap rise and spurt, flooding his mom's pussy with his cum, feeling it sluice around his shaft as her hips carried on pumping him, splattering around the base; fireworks went off behind his eyelids and it was hard to stay conscious. His head swam, his limbs filled with an irresistible pleasant lassitude as he shot the last of his load deep inside of her, slumping to the floor underneath her, Maggie's sweaty body falling atop his.